MildMannered Businessman
by Nikitangel
Summary: I borrowed the character of 'Tempus' from 'Lois & Clark' to get his perspective on Section One.


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Disclaimer: Tempus is _so_ not my property. As a matter of fact, none of these characters are. I just take them out to play once in awhile and put them back where I found them.

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Spoilers: Nothing specific

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Archiving: Sure, just let me know. Nikitangel@hotmail.com

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Feedback: Any and all, even the bad stuff, but keep it constructive, would you? Please review - I always return the favor if you have fic on a series that I know.

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Notes: This is a parody. I use the character of Tempus from 'Adventures of Lois & Clark' to poke fun at my favorite characters. His sarcasm is just too tempting! Many of his lines here are taken verbatim or slightly twisted from his lines on L&C.

Elena hummed to herself as she bent to scoop up the last handful of legos on the floor. Depositing them in the box by the couch she made her way to the kitchen. 

"Well, isn't this heartwarming." 

She whirled around at the sudden sound to see a man standing on her living room rug. She opened her mouth to scream but the automatic leveled at her persuaded her otherwise. He was dressed strangely, a suit of silver. Brown hair, a strong jaw and a look of disdain permanently etched across his face. 

"I only thought to stop by to pick up a few things- " he lifted his other hand, which Elena saw contained most of her gold jewelry and Michael's watch, "and peek in on the little woman, but I really can't resist. It's just too tempting." Contempt rang through his voice. 

She struggled to keep her eyes from flicking towards Adam's bedroom. The man smiled condescendingly. 

"He's a little angel, isn't he? Just _too_ perfect for words. Surprisingly a daddy's boy, considering how little time Daddy spends with him. Oh, yes," he continued at her look of surprise. "I know quite a bit about him. Not to worry, I won't bother with him this trip." 

The man was completely composed. Except for the gun firmly pointed in her direction, he could have been standing there chatting about current events. He sighed patiently. "Now, this is a very important moment for me. I've been wondering about this for a long, long time, and you're just the girl to help me out. What do you say? Answer a question for me?" Elena nodded jerkily, her eyes on the gun. 

"Okay, here we go. Now, I first heard about you as a teenager. Standard history courses, you know." She began edging farther away from him at this but stopped at the glint that entered his eye. "You're not going to make me use this, are you? You might wake up Adam, and he just fell asleep again. Now. Where was I? We all learned about how many years you were with Michael, and there is one question that always arises. Again and again, everyone wants to know, and yet the answer is beyond me. You, Mrs. Samuelle -" he dragged out the syllables, "you are going to end it all." 

"Wh- what was the question?" 

His eyes lit up. "How ... dumb ... was she?" 

Elena blinked. "What?" 

The man smirked. "Exactly." He waited a moment, then sighed in exasperation. "Oh, come on. The sudden 'business trips'? The mysterious bullet-sized scars all over his body? The way you never hear him until he's right behind you?" Elena's eyes widened. "Oh, this is better than I ever dreamed. You must be galactically stupid." Elena's spine stiffened. 

He laughed, reveling in his disclosure. "Here, let me make it a bit easier for you." He turned his profile to her, striking a pose. "Mild-mannered businessman." He suddenly faced the other way, donning a pair of black sunglasses. "Super secret agent." 

Sunglasses off. "Somewhat neglectful husband." 

Sunglasses on. "Dedicated government spy." 

Elena couldn't breathe. Her legs started to give way beneath her and the man's smile grew. "Oh, yes, wonderful! Oh, this was worth the whole trip. Well," he clapped his hands together, "I really need to be on my way. It's been a pleasure opening your eyes, I do hope I never have to look at you again." 

With one last scornful look at the shaking woman before him, the man headed for the door. He paused at the threshold and looked over his shoulder. "By the way, if Michael stops by, do tell him I dropped in." A business card floated to the carpet in front of Elena. Still reeling from the shock, she leaned over to examine it, struggling to make out the name. _Tempus_. 

The man grinned. "Gotta fly!" 

************* 

"What a rush!" 

Tempus quickly surveyed his surroundings and stepped out of the time machine, dusting himself off. Good. No immediate witnesses. That certainly made things easier. Transporting himself directly into an unused sub-level of Section instead of trying to penetrate Security had been a stroke of genius, but it had been a risky arrival. Drawing his gun, he slipped out the door and made for the elevator. 

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"Our sources indicate that Grenwich is moving fast. We have a short window of opportunity in which to -" 

Operations stopped abruptly at the sight approaching him. Those at the Briefing table swiveled around to see a man dressed in silver, casually holding an automatic on the table in general. 

"Hello." His eyes flicked towards the flash of movement in Munitions. "Oh, Walter -" he clucked his tongue. "I really wouldn't if I were you." He raised his other hand to reveal a small detonator. "I went to a great deal of trouble to set this trigger up and I'd hate to see it go to waste." 

The man inclined his head towards Michael, who had been surreptitiously moving his hand towards the inside of his jacket. "And I suppose I don't have to mention the fact that were I to loosen my grip ... well." Michael paused, then lowered his hand. 

The man smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tempus, and you all are the 'heart' " -- he rolled his eyes - "of Section One. Now that we're all acquainted, I feel as though I should inform you that I intend to kill you." 

Operations scowled. "You won't get away with this!" 

Tempus raised his eyebrows and put a hand to his chest in mock concern. "Gee! If only there were some top-secret anti-terrorist agency to come and stop me - oh wait! Duh! There is! Oh help, help, I'm being stopped." 

He kept his distance from the table and his eye on Michael and Nikita. "Hard to watch me, isn't it Mikey? Itchin' to jump through a window and save her, aren't ya?" Michael's face remained impassive. 

Tempus rolled his eyes again. "God save me from the guilt-ridden operative. I've never seen someone suffer so beautifully for so long. But you know, that does raise an interesting issue," he continued, directing his comments towards Operations and Madeline. "The eternal thorn in your administrative side. What will you do? I know! Why don't you 'keep a closer eye on her from now on'? No, wait! Send in Michael, her enigmatic love/hate foil! That'll do the trick." Madeline's lips were pursed. "Maybe then you could order their cancellation a few hundred times?" 

Operations took off his glasses angrily. "Why is he still alive?" 

Tempus widened his eyes. "Well, gee, it's a wonder, given your excellent leadership of this place. I certainly had trouble infiltrating it. Madeline, really, why do you allow him to keep running things? Keep the woman in the background while the man runs the business? Hellooooo! What decade did I land in?" 

Nikita leaned forward in her chair. "Why are you here?" 

"Oh, WHY? 'Why,' says the girl with the limpid eyes?" Tempus mocked. "I'd explain it to you dear, but it has to do with the big picture, and we all know your track record with that. Look out, there it goes!" He gestured over her head with the gun and she jumped back. "Bit jumpy?" 

He sighed. "All right. Let's see, Michael, let's do you first. I don't think I can stomach another stifled gaze of tortured longing." He motioned for Michael to stand and the operative slowly complied. "Oh, Michael, do be sure to button your coat." Michael's left hand froze and returned to his side. "Oh, speaking of coats, I suppose I have you to thank for the fashion of the future. All black, all the time? Don't you find it a little tiresome?" 

Madeline's cool voice intruded. "The future?" 

Tempus' smile returned. "Why, yes. Didn't I mention that? 2032, to be exact. You'd be surprised at how much 'good'" -- he sneered at this - "can be accomplished in such a short time. Section One, much to my disappointment, was rather instrumental in this accomplishment." 

Nikita's eyes widened. "Section One?" 

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. I -" His words were cut off as Michael swiftly closed the distance between them and swept the gun from Tempus' hand while simultaneously grasping the hand with the trigger. Tempus stood in shock for a moment before his face resumed its disdainful glare. "Well, well. I should have realized I was up against Super Spyboy. Does this mean I get to meet the Accountants with the yellow lunchboxes?" 

"Michael - you could have been killed." Nikita gazed meaningfully at Michael, a sheen of tears in her eyes. 

"It was worth it," he answered, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. 

"Oh, puh-lease," remarked Tempus, still in Michael's grip. 

"Shut up." 

"Or what, you'll cancel me? Please do. I can't take any more Michael/Nikita drama. The UST is overwhelming." He rolled his eyes one last time as he was dragged away to containment. 


End file.
